


Will Graham's School Days

by Durrant



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durrant/pseuds/Durrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of all, Will wanted to go home. As he couldn't do that, he'd settle for not having to share a bedroom. Lecter was too quiet and it unnerved him, and he was a foreigner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The tiny country train station was deserted. 

Will stepped off the well-lit train and out, into the rain. His suitcase was heavy, but it was precious and he didn’t want it to become damaged. It was the one his mother had brought with her from America. 

The train sped away and he was alone. No else had got off and, even if they had, they would have no reason to linger here. The rain was lashing down so heavily that he could barely see the far end of the platform. Will hurried along, only stopping to catch his breath once he was inside the small station. There was no-one there waiting to take his ticket.

“You there, boy!” an angry voice called out. Will jumped, pulling at his new school uniform. The material scratched at him, new and overly starched, as if the clothes themselves were designed to mould him into shape. “What do you think you’re playing at? Get over here at once!”

Will hurried out of the station and saw an old car. It must have been the driver that had yelled at him; his window was down and he sneered at Will. “Put that in the boot and get in. If I’m late for supper because of you, then I’ll take it out on your hide.”

“Yes, sir,” Will muttered. His suitcase had only got a little wet, but each raindrop that had landed on it had sunk into the leather, darkening it. Will hoped it would be alright. 

There was another boy already sitting in the back of the car. He was in Blanderings uniform too, but he didn’t look anywhere near as nervous as Will felt. The boy gave him a rather cold look, and then inclined his head in greeting. 

“Hi,” Will whispered. 

“Quiet back there! Bad enough that I’m nearly missing my supper without having to listen to you two bloody yapping on,” the man in the driver’s seat yelled. 

He’d never been sent away to boarding school before; his father had told him that he should have been sent years ago, that it would make a man of him. But Will just wanted to go home. 

Will hunched over. His stomach ached, but he knew there wasn’t anything wrong with his body. His stomach had been hurting for the past week. The car engined roared as they sped through the narrow country lanes, the rain thudding on to the roof of the car. Every few seconds, the windscreen wipers swished across the windscreen with a loud screeching scraping noise. It sounded awful and he didn’t know how the other two could stand it. For Will it was a reminder, every few seconds, that he deserved to be here. That he deserved to be punished for what he’d done, for how he’d behaved.

* * *

“Ah, Hodgkins,” the Headmaster said jovially as the man who had picked Will up from the station jostled him into the Headmaster’s study. The room had a cosy feeling to it, there was a small fire burning in the grate and the walls were lined with books. The Headmaster himself sat in a comfortable looking leather armchair, holding onto a teacup and saucer. “So these are the new boys. Very good, very good. I suppose you’ll be wanting to get back to Mrs. Hodgkins.”

The man, Hodgkins, pulled his hat off his head and held it to his chest respectfully. 

“If you don’t mind, sir,” Hodgkins said, his tone so meek and simpering that Will could barely believe that this was the same man who had yelled at him earlier. The Headmaster waved his hand dismissively. 

“Oh, before you go. I did want to have a word about poachers. One of the Fifth Years saw one in the woods yesterday. You’ll have to put more traps down.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Hodgkins shuffled uneasily, but the Headmaster put his teacup and saucer down on the arm of his chair and glared at Hodgkins. “I’ll...I’ll see what I can do, sir.” Hodgkins continued, cowed. 

“Jolly good. Off you go then. Now, Graham and Lecter,” the Headmaster said, drawing the names out slowly and leaning back in his chair, ignoring Hodgkins as he shuffled away. “Two new Upper Sixth. Most unusual, but I’m sure we’ll manage. Your father was one of ours, wasn’t he, Graham?”

Will opened his mouth to speak, but the Headmaster’s attention had already turned to the boy next to him. 

“I don’t often carry with allowing foreigners at Blanderings but I’m told the world is changing and, I suppose, we must all try and adapt,” the Headmaster took a sip of his tea, the fine bone china of his cup was so thin that it was almost transparent. Beside him, Will saw Lecter’s eyes gleam. As they reflected the fire, they looked almost red. The Headmaster didn’t seem to notice. “Now, all the Upper Sixth rooms are taken, so you’ll be sharing Lower Sixths quarters. It can’t be helped and anyway, the privacy of an Upper Sixth room has to be earned, and you two have hardly done anything to deserve that, have you?”

Will bit the inside of his cheek, not sure if he should answer or not. 

“Very well, off you go then.”

* * *

Will’s suitcase was just outside the Headmaster’s study where he’d left it. Lecter’s suitcase sat beside it; his case was obviously brand new and very expensive. Will avoided touching it as he reached over to pick up his suitcase before looking around. There was a chill in the air now they were away from the warming fire and he had no idea where they were supposed to go. He wasn’t even terribly comforted by the fact that he and Lecter were going to the same place. 

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, ever since I heard that Pig was back from the station,” a tall blond boy called out as he hurried up to them. 

“Pig?” Will asked, already guessing that this boy meant Hodgkins. 

“Hmm, the Groundskeeper, he lives in the gatehouse with his wife, Circe. Whatever you do, don’t accept one of her invitations to tea. Do you want a hand with your suitcase? No? Hurry up then.” Will grabbed hold of his suitcase and followed after the boy as he strode along the draughty hallway. Behind him, he couldn’t hear any noise coming from Lecter, but he assumed he was following too. 

“His wife’s name is Circe?” Will asked dumbfounded. 

“What? Yes, I mean, no, not really!” the boy stopped and turned to give him an incredulous look, “It’s a nickname. Oh, damn, I suppose I’ve gone about this all wrong, haven’t I? I’m Atherton, Deputy Head Boy. Holby, he’s the Head Boy, asked me to show you to your rooms. You know you’re in Lower Sixth rooms, worse luck. Especially with - “ Atherton glanced over Will’s shoulder, “Does he even speak English?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Hmm, well, you’ll have to share a bedroom with him, and a study. I’d say it would be difficult getting someone to fag for you, but we had far too many Lower Years last Michaelmas. Someone’s bound to offer,” Atherton turned a corner and led them up a spiralling stone staircase. It was so narrow that they had to walk single file. 

“Although, you’re only going to be here for two terms, so I suppose it won’t be the end of the world if you have keep your own rooms clean. Right, here we are. Here are your keys,” Atherton handed two brass keys to Will. “Curfew at ten and lights out at eleven, but Matron never comes up here, so I wouldn’t worry about that. I say, you don’t have any smokes, do you? You should give me one if you do, I did show you to your room.”

“Sorry,” Will huffed but Atherton just quirked his lips in annoyance. He did not ask if Lecter had any cigarettes. 

“That’s alright, but try and remember for next time. Breakfast’s at eight, but you don’t have to go if you’d rather eat in your study. Just make sure you’re down in time for lessons.”

With that, Atherton turned on his heels and walked away. Somehow, even though he was wearing the same uniform that made Will itch uncomfortably, Atherton looked impossibly elegant. Silently, Will handed one of the brass keys to Lecter, who took it wordlessly. There wasn’t any noise in the hallway and Will was sure that none of the other students slept on this floor. 

He unlocked the door and got the light switch. It flickered a few times and then came on; the bulb hummed and cast out a dreary light that shone onto two large wooden desks. There was an open door on the other side of the study, through which Will could see two single beds. He dragged his suitcase through to the bedroom and let himself flop down on the bed. It was hard and lumpy and so very different from his room at home.

He could hear Lecter unpacking his books and putting them on one of the bookshelves in the study. He should be doing that too, but he was too tired. 

Opening up his suitcase, he got out his pajamas and started to take off his school uniform. Trying not to wrinkle anything, he hung his blazer up in his small wardrobe and lay his shirt over the end of his bed. He pulled off his shoesand socks, so that he was standing in just his vest and trousers. He’d never really been naked in front of anyone before and, even though he’d expected to have less privacy at school, he didn’t like the idea that Lecter would see him as he got changed. He thought about closing the bedroom door, but then he didn’t want to draw attention to himself even more. 

Lecter was still unpacking, his back to the bedroom door, so Will pulled off his clothes and put his pajamas on as quickly as he could. 

“I’m just,” Will began, stepping out into the study, “Going to look for the bathroom.”

Lecter gave him a blank look and then went back to arranging a small Japanese figurine on the desk that Will supposed was Lecter’s now. Perhaps the boy really didn’t speak English. 

The light in the hallway had turned off and Will had no idea where the switch was. Instead, he stumbled along in the dark, feeling the wall with his left hand as he clutched his toothbrush in his right. Each door he found was locked.

The sixth door knob he tried turned in his hand. For a second, he held the door shut, not pushing it open. He wasn’t sure why, but he had the most awful premonition that this wasn’t a bathroom at all and he almost walked past it. He knew he was being ridiculous, but it was so dark and his fancies were getting the better of him. 

He pushed the door open. This room was as pitch black as the hallway, but this room felt so much colder. 

“Hello? Is there anyone there? I’m looking for the bathroom?”

He groped at the wall inside the door and found that it was lined with tiles. Surely, this room had to be the bathroom. Now, he just had to find the light switch. He shivered as a sudden gust of cold air hit him.

“Is someone here?” Will called out shivering in the cold. 

His fingers found the light switch. The room flared into view; one wall was lined with stalls, some with a lavatory inside, some with a shower but none of the stalls had doors. At the end of the room a window had been left wide open. 

Will scuttled across the bathroom and closed the window. There wasn’t any kind of latch on it and the glass rattled precariously in its frame, but it seemed to be sturdy enough for now and Will was too cold to care. His bare feet stung on the cold tiles. He wished he could write to his mother and ask her to send him his slippers. He’d forgotten to pack them. 

The thought made him hang his head in shame; he was being selfish. 

He brushed his teeth and avoided looking at himself in the mirror. There was no hot water and his fingers ached as he washed them in the ice cold tap water.

Lecter was already in bed when he got back to their rooms. He’d left the light on for Will, so he supposed Lecter wasn’t all bad, even if he was foreign and didn’t clean his teeth. 

“Lights out?” Will asked, but Lecter just regarded him dully from his bed; it was like talking to a reptile. He turned the light off and made his way blindly to his bed. Their bedroom was only marginally warmer than the bathroom, but he didn’t want to get up and try to find a jumper. He’d rather lie there and shiver; his nightmares would probably warm him up in a few hours anyway. 

If his mother were there then she would wake him up from his bad dreams; she would hold him when he woke up, sweaty and terrified. But, of course, she wouldn’t do that anymore. 

Hot, shameful tears ran down his cheeks. He buried his head in the pillow, trying to make sure that in the darkness his breathing sounded normal, that nothing gave away what he was doing. 

He thought of his mother. She had been so beautiful; she used to sit on his bed and tell him stories about a far away country that had bright sunlight on humid days, of exotic creatures in swamps that teamed with life. She’d speak to him in French and his father would scoff and say that that wasn’t French, that it had been butchered past all recognition. 

He wished he could hate his father. He wished he was a real man, who didn’t do disgusting things like crying. He’d seen the disdain in his father’s eyes when he’d looked at him at Mother’s funeral. 

Will’s breath hitched. He was being too noisy. 

The light flicked on and Will dove under the covers, trying to hide from the light. He couldn’t let Lecter know what he’d been doing. The blankets bunched in his fists, as he held them over himself. 

“Turn the light out,” Will yelled, but the light remained on. There was a dip in the bed next to him. Will tightened his grip on the bedsheets. 

Strong hands pulled at the covers and, although Will struggled to resist, it was futile. Lecter was simply too strong. 

Will blinked up as the covers were pulled from his face. Even in this light, Lecter’s eyes still looked red. Will blushed and looked away. He knew his face was still wet and his eyes bloodshot, it would be obvious that he’d been crying. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Will whispered. Lecter cocked his head thoughtfully. 

“It will be our secret,” Lecter said and Will glanced back at him, surprised to hear the boy talk for the first time. His accent was very thick and he spoke so slowly that it was difficult to understand him. “But there will be a price.”

Will snorted softly. Just as being sent away to boarding school was the price for crying at his mother’s funeral, there must always a price for showing one’s emotions.

“I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was warm porridge that had congealed into a grey lump in the bowl. Will poked it with his spoon. Lecter, who had followed him down to breakfast, sat nearby; he looked just as disgusted as Will felt, but he was eating the porridge. Will put a spoonful in his mouth and swallowed. It didn’t taste any better than it looked, but he was hungry so he swallowed back a few more spoonfuls. 

“Hello, there. Graham?” A tall boy slid onto the bench opposite him. Will swallowed his porridge and nodded. He didn’t understand how everyone else managed to look at ease in their school uniform. Will straightened his blazer awkwardly. 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Good, I’m Head Boy. I’m sure you’re settling in alright. Now, here’s your schedule, and this one is for Lecter.” Holby slid a piece of paper along the table and nodded at Lecter. “Which must be you. Good to see you’re making friends already. Let me know if you need anything, just one thing though. Don’t be late to lessons.” Holby smiled and arranged his cuffs artfully. Will watched him with wide eyes, slightly in awe of this confident young man. 

“Alright,” Will agreed but Holby was watching Lecter. The other boy moved his head in a gesture that was not quite a nod of agreement. 

“Hmm, you’ve got Latin first. That used to be Crawford’s subject but he left before Christmas. Shame that, he was good man although he was a bugger for having favourites. You’ll have the new Latin Master,” Holby stood and glared over at a group of younger boys who were talking loudly as they ate their breakfast. They quietened down at once. 

“The Latin classroom is on the third floor. The last door on the left if you go up the main stairs. I’m sure the two of you will be able to find it.”

“The two of us?” Will said with a frown as he looked across at Lecter’s schedule. He couldn’t make out all the details but it seemed like Lecter and he shared a lot of the same classes. 

Lecter picked up the paper, blocking it from Will’s view. 

“Sorry,” Will said quickly. “Where did you say…” Will turned to ask the Head Boy to repeat his directions to the Latin classroom, but Holby was already striding towards the group of talkative younger boys with a thunderous expression on his face. Will hoped that Lecter remembered where their classroom was. “Do you want to get going? We’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.”

Lecter blinked, lizard-like, at him and put another spoonful of porridge in his mouth. Perhaps Lecter didn’t speak English and he’d just dreamt that he’d spoken to Will last night. 

The other boys began to leave the Dining Hall, heading off to class, but Lecter continued eating. Will had no idea how he could bear to eat so much, especially as the porridge had to be cold by now. 

He stood, determined to leave Lecter behind and try to find the Latin classroom by himself. 

“Wait,” Hannibal said quietly. Will sat back down. They were the last two in the Hall, they were definitely going to be late.

* * *

The lessons themselves weren’t particularly taxing, but he hated the way that some teachers would make him stand up to answer a question. Everyone would turn round to stare at him and, if his answer was wrong, then the other boys would titter with laughter. 

No-one seemed particularly hostile, but then no-one was friendly either. He was left to find his own way around the school. He’d ask boys for directions, but he wasn’t sure that he was always given the right directions. Certainly no-one ever turned his queries into a conversation. Instead, he found he spent most of his time with Lecter. It wasn’t a conscious choice and the other boy seemed to just ignore Will for the most part. In fact, Will could count on one hand the number of times that Lecter had spoken to him. 

On his third day, as he was walking to lunch after his first Mathematics class, a young boy bumped into him. Rather than apologise, the boy just grinned up at him. 

“Hallo, are you Graham? The new Upper Sixth?”

“Er..Yes.” 

“Oh, good, I’ve been trying to find you for days,” the boy hurried on breathlessly, “Do you have a fag yet? Because I was wondering if you wanted one. I’m very good at tidying, and folding clothes, and, and if you have a kettle and tea bags and powdered milk, then I’m very good at making tea.”

The little boy ran out of breath and looked up at Will with such a look of earnest longing, that Will wanted to say yes at once. Not because he wanted the boy to do any of those things, but just because he wanted to be Will’s fag so desperately. 

“Why?”

“Well, its...its just that Lounds...He’s such a terror. He’s a Lower Sixth. If I was your fag, he’d never dare touch me! Please!”

Will hummed in understanding. The little boy wanted to be Will’s fag so that he would have to protect him from his bully. 

“What’s your name?”

“Zeller, sir.”

“Look, Zeller…” Will began. He did want to help the boy, but he wasn’t sure how much he could really protect him from his unknown bully. 

“No,” Lecter’s heavily accented voice sounded from behind Will’s shoulder. He turned, startled. He’d thought that he had been alone. Zeller’s face fell as he looked between Lecter and back to Will. 

“I…” Will wanted to say that Zeller could be his fag, just to spite Lecter, but then he remembered what Lecter had said that first night. That his silence would come with a price. Perhaps this was the price. “I’m sorry, Zeller, I don’t know how much help I could be anyway.”

“Yes, sir. Maybe, if you change your mind later, you’d let me know?”

“Alright,” Will sighed resignedly. The little boy nodded, but Will could see how disheartened he was as he walked away, his little shoulders hunched unhappily. 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will said, turning to Lecter defiantly. The other boy looked amused rather than intimidated. “I should call him back and say he can be my fag.”

“Don’t.” 

It was still surprising to hear Lecter’s voice, he spoke so rarely that there was something rather fascinating about hearing him now.

“Why not? He’s so scared. All he wants is to be able to tell people that I’m protecting him.” 

Lecter smiled, his lips were closed and unmoving and Will _knew_ , he didn’t need Lecter to say a word, because this was the price that Lecter was extracting for keeping Will’s secret. Not only telling Zeller he couldn’t be his fag, but Will’s _obedience_. Lecter had told him what to do, and he expected Will to obey him. 

“I could, you know,” Will said bitterly, another layer of guilt building up in his mind. He wished he had the courage to defy Lecter. If he hadn’t been caught crying then Lecter would have nothing over him. 

He didn’t acknowledge Lecter for the rest of the day, but Lecter didn’t seem to notice.

* * *

Zeller sat by himself at breakfast the next morning. His solitude made it easy for Will to see his injuries. Someone had beaten him; he had a swollen eye and a bruise that promised to blossom across his cheek. The little boy was looking resolutely down at his porridge and ignoring the loud whispers of the boys around him. 

Will ground his teeth angrily. He should have prevented Zeller’s injuries. 

Looking round, he saw a boy smiling smugly and occasionally glancing at Zeller. That had to be Lounds, the bully that Zeller had been scared of. He looked like the kind of boy that had been bullied himself; he was gangly with ginger hair that stuck off his head in tight, messy curls. But there wasn’t a doubt in Will’s mind that this was Lounds. He looked so full of spite and anger at the world and desperate to make sure that he had everyone’s respect.

Lecter followed his gaze and then stared curiously at Will. 

“You believe that he is Zeller’s bully?”

Will gave a one shouldered shrug, he’d never really been able to explain how he could see things about people around him. Even if he could, he wasn’t in any mood to talk to Lecter this morning.

If he were allowed, he’d never look anyone in the eye, so that he’d never have to see all these details about the people around him; but his father would never allow such rudeness. His mother was the only one who had ever really understood him. 

He didn’t want the rest of his breakfast, his stomach was twisted with guilt and he couldn’t eat anything. Standing, he left Lecter to sit by himself, not bothering to answer his question.

* * *

The Games Master stood in the locker room watching them all get changed. Will tried to hide behind the other boys, he didn’t like the way that Chiltern smiled; his sharp teeth shone yellow and Will knew he was being inspected. He wished he hadn’t been rude to Lecter, having the other new boy near him all the time worked as a buffer, but now he was alone. 

The other boys trudged out of the Games Pavillion as soon as they had their kit on but, when WIll tried to leave, Chiltern’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder. 

“New boy, eh? You Graham or Lecter?”

“Graham, sir.”

Chiltern eyed him speculatively before grabbing onto Will’s elbow and lifting his arm up. He felt like an animal being examined before being sent to market. 

“Thin, aren’t you? Any good at rugby?”

Will glanced up to look his teacher in the eye and then glanced away. It was so easy to see Chiltern’s petty ambitions, his lusts, the victory he felt in the small acts of sadism that he inflicted on his students. Instead, Will looked at the man’s eyebrows. This close, Will could see small pieces of dried skin trapped between the short hairs. 

“I haven’t played a lot, sir.”

Chiltern released his arm with a shove.

“Well then, you’re not much use, are you? I’ll try you out this afternoon but, I warn you, if you’re not up to snuff, you’ll spend the rest of the term as a runner.”

Will nodded and fled, behind him he heard Chiltern turn his attention to Lecter. He doubted his roommate had ever played rugby, but at least he would have the strength for it. Will kicked at the grass angrily and went to stand near the other boys. A few of them looked at him and laughed. Will turned away, pretending to look around at the Games field. 

The whole school was encircled by woods, and this was the closest that he’d been to them since he’d arrived. The overcast afternoon made them look particularly foreboding. Will shook his head, it was that sort of thinking that would get him labelled as being _sensitive._

* * *

Blood trickled out of his nose as the other boys gathered around him, peering at him with expressions of stilted curiosity on their faces. 

“Tip your head back, Graham!” Chiltern yelled as he stalked across the field towards the cluster of boys. “You’re getting blood on your shirt and making more work for Matron. What the hell were you playing at? Well, that’s the end of your rugby career. I hate having runners in the class, and you’re the only one in your year, but there’s no help for it.” Chiltern’s lips twisted in mock regret, but Will knew he was enjoying giving this little speech. “Well, go on. The track runs through the woods and I expect you back in the Pavillion by the end of class. I won’t come and look for you if you’re late!”

“But, sir -” Will began, he couldn’t feel any more blood coming out of his nose, but he knew his face was a mess. Plus, he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

“Just go,” Chiltern said, turning away. Will looked around at the other boys, most of them looked away, although a few were still giving him blankly curious stares. 

“It’s over there,” one of the boy’s said quietly, pointing towards the woods, “Just follow the path and it’ll come out behind the Pavillion.”

“Thanks,” Will muttered, but his voice was lost as Chiltern yelled inarticulately from the sidelines and everyone moved away from Will. Lecter had been standing at the back of the crowd and he caught Will’s eye. He was the last to move away. It was strange how Will never knew what Lecter was thinking or feeling, but everyone else seemed so obvious to him. 

The rugby field was muddy after yesterday’s rain and Will’s feet squelched loudly as he jogged to the edge of the woods. The path was obvious now that he was closer to the trees; it was wide and well trodden. 

Will wiped his hand across his face, his blood smearing wetly. He’d have to wait until it dried and then he could rub it off, or wait until he could get to a bathroom, but that would be ages.

He stepped into the woods and blinked. It was so dark in here that he could barely make out where the path was. Will paused and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. 

Finally, he could see again and he set off at a slow jog. The path was surprisingly well maintained and after a while Will found himself enjoying his run. He was completely alone and didn’t have to think about anyone else’s thoughts. His lungs thrummed pleasantly as his body worked away and his mind was beautifully quiet. 

Around him he heard the pitter patter of rain falling on leaves. Will carried on running; under the safety of the trees, he was completely dry. This wasn’t a punishment at all. He’d much rather run than have to play rugby out in the rain. 

He turned a sharp bend and stopped suddenly; his knees jarring painfully. There was a woman walking along the path towards him. She paused, mid step, with a surprised look on her face. 

“Hello?” she said, smiling and tilting her head as if she wasn’t really sure that Will was real. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, Will felt a thrill of panic. There was something _off_ about this woman. 

“Hello, m’am,” he said, edging around her. 

“Oh,” she held out a hand to him, “You mustn’t go into the woods! Stick to the path! There are man traps and you mustn’t hurt yourself.”

“Yes, m’am,” Will stopped and looked at the woman properly. She didn’t seem like she was going to do anything strange, but he had no idea who she was. 

“I suppose Mr Chiltern sent you down here, didn’t he? Well, don’t mind him. He’s all bark and no bite, that one! Tell you what, why don’t you come back with me? We can have tea together, at the gatehouse.”

This woman must be Hodgkins’ wife, Circe. He wasn’t sure why Atherton had warned him against her; the more he looked at her, the more harmless she seemed. There was an old wound on her foreman, a long and gruesome scar. Will eyed it quickly, not wanting to get caught being rude, but he had the impression that Circe wasn’t even aware that he wasn’t looking at her face. It was as if she were blind. 

“I can’t, m’am. I have to be back by the end of class.”

She smiled sadly. 

“Another time. Mr Hodgkins can seem a little rough, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Students are always welcome at the gate house.”

Will thought of the man traps that Hodgkins had put down to catch poachers that probably littered these woods. He might not hurt a fly, but he didn’t have any qualms about hurting his fellow man. 

“Thank you, m’am. I, I have to get going, but it was nice to meet you.”

Circe smiled vaguely and waved him away.

* * *

“Clean your boots,” Lecter said as soon as Will got them out of his kit bag. Lecter’s Games kit was already hung over the radiator to dry.

“What?” Will began angrily, intending to tell Lecter to mind his own business. He stopped himself as he remembered that Lecter had not yet extracted his price for not telling anyone about Will crying on their first night. Then he wondered what Lecter could really do. The other students didn’t seem to like Lecter any better than they liked him. Would it even matter if Lecter told people he’d been crying? He could always say that Lecter was lying. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

Lecter turned so he was facing him head on. It was unfair that even though they were in the same year, Lecter seemed so much bigger and more put together than him. Lecter watched him, analysing him with coolly appraising eyes.

“What did you think of Chiltern?” Lecter asked, changing the subject. Will smiled to himself, assuming that Lecter wasn’t going to press the issue of his dirty boots. 

“He’s a petty sadist, who’s angry that his intellect isn’t respected because he’s a Games Master.”

Will snapped his mouth shut. His mother had warned him about saying out loud what he saw when he looked at other people. 

“He made quite an impression after only an afternoon’s acquaintance.” 

Will shrugged and picked at the dirt on his running boots. 

“You find it easy to slip inside others’ minds.” 

Will snorted inelegantly. Lecter sounded impossibly foreign. 

“I suppose you could put it that way,” Will laughed humourlessly, Lecter’s phrasing was odd but somehow it explained how Will often felt surprisingly well. 

“Do you ever find yourself stuck there? I’m imagine it must be very difficult to find yourself again, so easy to lose yourself in another’s mind.”

Will picked a large piece of dried dirt off his boot and let it fall to the floor. He wouldn’t let Lecter get to him, the other boy had no way of knowing that he was asking such sensitive questions. His mother had always grounded him when things had seemed too much, when he didn’t feel in control anymore. But he was a man now, he would cope by himself. 

“It’s fine. I’m going to supper,” Will said, tossing his dirty boots back into his kit bag. He’d deal with his damp clothes later.

“I’ll come with you,” Lecter said, standing smoothly and straightening his uniform. The two of them were often thrown together; they shared a room and many of the same classes. Everyone else knew each other, and it seemed natural that the two new boys would stick together, but, as they walked to the Dining Hall, Will had the impression that Lecter was walking far closer to him than he usually did. Even though they walked in silence, it felt different; as if he’d chosen to be with Will that evening, rather than just two people walking to the same place.

* * *

There was no hot water for Will’s evening shower. He shivered as he scrubbed himself as quickly as possible. If Lecter came in now, he’d see him completely naked, and the idea made him uneasy. 

He turned the water off and wrapped himself up in his towels. 

Outside it was raining again, and the wind made the glass of the window rattle perilously. It sounded like it was going to break at any second.

* * *

Lecter turned off the light. Will listened as the boy padded softly to his bed and turned his sheets down. 

“What’s your name?” Lecter’s voice came out of the darkness. Will hadn’t thought that he’d care about rooming with a foreigner, but Lecter’s heavy accent made Will uncomfortable. It made his voice monotone and Will had no idea what the other boy was thinking about. 

“Graham,” Will answered as he got himself comfortable in his bed.

“No, your first name.”

“My Christian name? It’s William, Will, but, erm, I don’t think that’s how things are done here. We’re supposed to use surnames.”

“These are our rooms, William. We may do as we please. You must call me Hannibal.”

Will grunted an acknowledgement. 

“Why were you sent here, Will?”

“My mother died,” he said, quietly. His voice didn’t hitch as he said it and that made him proud. 

“My parents died many years ago. I was being raised by my aunt and uncle. My aunt recently died,” Lecter’s voice was dry and completely lacking in emotion. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Will shifted awkwardly, hitting his pillow so that it plumped up slightly. Lecter had been so quiet and now he’d suddenly decided to talk to Will and he couldn’t waste this opportunity. 

“Why were you sent here?” Will asked, repeating Lecter’s question back at him.

“My uncle hoped to improve my English.” 

“Oh,” Will hesitated, unsure if Lecter expected him to comment, “Its very good already.” 

“Thank you, Will,” he said with a chuckle, and suddenly Will felt tears in his eyes. It seemed like ages since someone had called him Will, or sounded as friendly as Hannibal did. 

“I don’t like it here,” Will whispered, unable to stop himself. 

“No,” Hannibal agreed, “It is a difficult place to like, but perhaps there are advantages. I met you here after all.“ 

”Me?” Will said, startled and confused. 

“It is good to make friends, is it not?” 

“Friends?” Will hated the way his voice sounded so hopeful. He hadn’t thought of Hannibal as his friend, or indeed anyone here at Blanderings. At home, he’d had a tutor and he didn’t tend to meet boys his own age; which meant he didn’t have friends there either. 

“Yes, Will, friends.”

“Alright...Hannibal.”

Will fell asleep quickly but his dreams haunted him. He dreamt he was sitting next to his mother as she lay on her deathbed. She was trying to tell him something; trying to get out her final words but, although Will pressed his ear almost to her mouth, he couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. She looked so scared and desperate, Will thought she was trying to warn him about something. He woke up the next morning feeling restless, but he put his strange dream from his mind as he walked to breakfast with Hannibal.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I got it into my head that Hannigram really needed to be done as a British boarding school AU..I think something about the atmosphere of twisted morality and warped emotions seemed perfect for this fandom. I'm not sure though, any thoughts?


End file.
